


The Modernization of Captain America

by Themoonlitknight



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Humor, Mental Healing, Post Avengers, adjusting to the 21st Century, and since im in self isolation i thought what the hell, barry benson voice: ya like tropes?, ends post civil war, lets write the bitch, make friends, probs - Freeform, starts before winter soldier, this story has been in my head for literal years
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-18
Updated: 2020-03-18
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:28:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23203951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Themoonlitknight/pseuds/Themoonlitknight
Summary: Steve Rogers is a man out of time: he's survived genetic experimentation, a world war, and a god damn alien invasion. Now he's faced with navigating the 21st century and needless to say, its not going well.Charlotte Temple has been on SHIELD's payroll for years without lifting a finger. She's bored, she's obnoxious, and she's been getting on everyone's last nerve.Nick Fury has always been good at making the best of what he's got.
Relationships: Just friends - Relationship, Maybe Later, None for now
Kudos: 1





	The Modernization of Captain America

The clothes in the dresser were the same. 

Though he hadn’t had the opportunity to don his civvies often since he’d gotten the serum (and never anything quite as nice as this—when the hell did the government start treating their soldiers so good?) he nevertheless was able to slip into the garments with the same familiarity he’d always had. If he closed his eyes, and just focused on the feel of the starched fabric against his skin, of the smell of his leather jacket that he wore more for comfort than warmth, then maybe he could pretend that it was still 1944. That he was just going on leave for the weekend, that he’d meet the rest of the Commandos at the pub later, and maybe finally take Peggy up on that dance…

But he always had to open his eyes again, and that ache of homesickness would hit him hard right in the center of his chest. Everyday. 

He told himself it would get better. 

Sometimes he wasn’t sure if it would. 

No one else dressed the way Steve did, he’d noticed it back on the helicarrier, seeing Coulson’s suit and Stark’s graphic t-shirt and Bannner’s baggy button down. It wasn’t a concern then, something he had filed away at the back of his mind. He noticed it again, walking through the halls of the SHIELD base they had stowed him in. It wasn’t just the agents, dressed in their black tactical gear, or upper management in their business suits darting from one meeting to another. It was the casual employees, the IT guys in jeans and sweaters, the front desk girls in pants and colourful blouses. Shoes with laces. Shirt tails untucked. Steve stood out like a sore thumb. Would have even if he wasn’t the late, great, Captain America. 

(he’d seen an old man once who was dressed somewhat like Steve was. It left a bitter taste in his mouth and an odd feeling in his chest)

He found the room he’d been instructed to meet Fury in. The door was slightly ajar. As far as he could tell, there was only one person sitting at the table, hunched over a computer. Steve could hear the tinny music playing from its speakers. 

“Who will redeem, head the call for America, who’ll rise or fall, give his all for America!”

Steve froze, his heart stopped dead in his chest. 

Stark had teased him about fan girls, especially after her found out that Coulson had asked for him to sign his trading cards, but Steve hadn’t ever taken him seriously. Maybe he should have. This woman didn’t look dangerous, all red haired and freckled, wearing a too big blazer that made her look like she was playing at being grown up (then again, neither had Peggy, really, who looked as cool and beautiful Hedy Lamarr even when under fire). Still, Steve felt the apprehension bubble in his gut and the burn behind his ears, the kind he always got when faced with an unknown woman in an even semi-casual situation. 

He cleared his throat, loudly. Awkwardly. And grimaced. 

She looked up at him and closed her laptop, cutting the song off mid chorus. Her eyes were big and dark, staring. Steve stared back. The air-conditioning whizzed in the background. 

“It must be weird,” she commented, her voice thoughtful. “All this technology. The people. I couldn’t imagine. Enough to drive a person crazy, probably.”

Steve narrowed his eyes. “What are you, a head shrink?”

She quirked a brow. “Do you think you need one?”

Steve’s mouth fell open, indignant, a retort ready on his tongue, when Fury came striding in, and all that basic training rushed to the surface and Steve stood at attention. 

(he relaxed marginally at the raised eyebrows he received in response, but never as casually as he would have around Peggy or Phillips)

“Good to see you’re both here on time,” Fury commented in that brash, confident way of his. He slapped two folders down on the table and took a seat at its head. Steve followed suit, sitting between Fury and the girl, and pulled the nearest folder towards him. The girl lazily did the same and opened her laptop again. 

Thankfully, the music didn’t play this time. 

“You’ve been reassigned, Captain. Nothing of any great importance, some illegal weapons dealers, rogue terrorist groups, stuff of that.” Steve opened the file, both annoyed and grateful. He wasn’t some asset to be carted around, to be made useful. But he’d be busy. Busy was good. “You’ll be relocated to Washington and working out of SHEILD headquarters there.”

Steve looked up then. At Fury. At the girl. She had been quiet, tapping away at her computer. Steve nodded in her direction. “And her?”

“Captain, this is Charlotte Temple.”

She stood then. She was tall for a woman. Skinny, too. Curve-less. Lanky and coltish. There was a stubborn set to her chin as she held out her hand to him, thin mouth curling into a surprisingly charming grin. Steve stood to meet her and grasp her outstretched hand. It was cold and clammy, but the grip firm and confident. 

“Your new PA. She’ll be accompanying you to DC.”

Steve dropped her hand. “PA?”

“Personal assistant,” Charlotte clarified. “You say jump, I ask how high.”

“This is ridiculous.”

Charlotte returned to her seat and shrugged. 

“Not really. All things considered, you’re probably the least obnoxious Avenger to babysit. Poor Romanov was stuck with Stark back when this was all still just a pipe dream.”

“Natasha babysat Tony?”

“That doesn’t matter.” Fury quickly stepped in, cutting off whatever Charlotte was about to say with an eager grin. “Captain Rogers, Miss Temple will be assisting you to settle in once you get to Washington. She’ll help with mission prep, tech issues, anything you’re having troubles with.”

“Really, this won’t be necessary. I’ll handle everything fine on my own.”

Charlotte spoke up, her voice carefully neutral, but it rankled Steve anyway. “Do you know how to access your online banking?”

Steve stayed silent.

“Log into your SHIELD account?”

He clenched his jaw. 

“How much have cars changed since the forties?”

“Enough!” Fury stood, looking unimpressed. “The paperwork has already been finalized. Deal with it. Now pack your shit and get acquainted. You leave in a week.”

And with that Fury strode out of the room, his long jacket whipping dramatically behind him as he rounded the corner. Steve stared after him. Charlotte had packed her laptop away into a battered messenger bag. She tucked the file under her arm. 

“I’m getting coffee, you want anything?”

Steve just pursed his lips. Charlotte shrugged. “See you around, then.” He watched her breeze out of the room. 

He stayed in there alone, thinking, for a long time.

\-------

It was a weird week. 

Not waking up in the 21st century and being attacked by gods and aliens weird, but still. 

Charlotte found him later that day, still sitting in the meeting room that she had left him. She had two coffees with her. She placed one down beside him with a handful of sugar packets and mini creamers. At his look, she shrugged and sat down. Not right next to him, but one seat away. “I don’t know how you take it.”

She watched attentively as he poured in three sugars and took a sip. “So…” She sipped her own coffee. “Fury forgot to give me your number. Do you have a phone?”

Again, her voice was calm, non-judgmental. Again, Steve bristled. He dug out the rectangular piece of glass from his pocket and carefully placed it down on the table. 

He gave Charlotte a look. 

“Excellent,” she said, leaning over to pick it up. “Have you had the chance to play around with it yet?”

“No.” He hadn’t found the time nor desire to use it, but he already hated it. It felt as if it would shatter under the lightest touch of his fingers.

“Ok.” She began tapping away at the screen, cradling the phone between intertwined fingers. “There’s my number. Call or text if you need anything, whenever.” She held out the phone to him and Steve took it gingerly, glancing at the new information on the screen. “I’m sure you’ll be able to figure out how to use it no problem, but if you have any issues let me know.”

That was refreshing, actually, and Steve felt himself defrost towards her if only marginally. Most people thus far had treated him as if he was totally incompetent, and watched with a look of pity whenever he encountered new electronics. “Thanks.”

She shrugged. “Despite hiring me as your official PA, Fury has already organized all your stuff and gotten an apartment for you in DC.” She picked at the sleeve of her coffee cup. “There’s nothing I really need to brief you on. If I think of anything I’ll give you a call.” She smiled at him, soft and awkward, and quickly left the room in a rush.


End file.
